


What Was Left Behind

by WhiteMarsh



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Also some headcanon, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic, Gen, Not Beta Read, Novel References, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21608374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteMarsh/pseuds/WhiteMarsh
Summary: After the Sparda brothers leave for the Underworld, it's up to the people that remain to take stock of what they left behind. Features basically the entire cast dealing with the practical and emotional consequences of their last adventure. Genfic, no shipping beyond what is established by canon, rated for language. (Maybe a few hints at Lady/Nico because I can't help myself)
Relationships: Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 44





	1. What was hidden

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes on the timeline; this story assumes that Dante is around 43 during DMC5. The events referenced from the first DMC novel have been moved to a time before DMC3 and it’s assumed that the whole Gilver thing never happened, but that it was another demon sent by Mundus.

Despite having been to the Devil May Cry office countless times before, Lady felt unusually somber turning the spare key to enter the dilapidated building. A sunny afternoon was coming to an end, and even though the heat hadn’t been on in the building for weeks it still felt warm and stuffy in the office. A layer of dust had settled on every surface, more still dancing in the air from the disturbance of the two women walking inside.

“Is this like settling the estate of a deceased relative?” Trish muttered, walking over to the desk in the center. It was littered with scattered notes, filthy magazines (in more ways than one) and an old pizza box with dubious and probably hazardous contents.

“A bit, maybe.” Lady had dealt with loss many times before, but she couldn’t pin down what she was feeling now. Was it even a loss? He could come back, in theory, but would he?

There was no way of knowing if Dante would ever return, and even if they hadn’t seen very much of each other for the past few years, he was still one of her oldest and dearest friends. Even if he was alive and happy where he was, the thought of never seeing the goofball demon hunter again was a painful one. Sure, he was a hassle to be around much of the time; a loudmouth jackass and absolute mess of a man who could barely keep it together when not actively on a job, but he had always presented a shoulder to lean on when needed, even if just a proverbial one. Lately, Lady often wondered if she had ever properly repaid that favor.

Regardless of how she felt, they couldn’t leave the office to rot away. The bills wouldn’t pay themselves and should Dante never come back, then selling the building would be the only solution. But first they’d have to take stock of what was even in this mess, a mammoth task on its own.

“Don’t suppose he left a will or something?” Trish held up a filthy dish cloth between two fingers with a look of distaste. Dante had never been known for neatness, but he had really let himself go in recent years and the office looked more like a bachelor pad from hell than a legitimate business.

“This is _our_ Dante you’re talking about, Trish. I don’t think he even knew the current day of the week half the time. In fact he once called me in a panic because he’d forgotten it was a national holiday and all the grocery stores were closed.”

“What did he need?”

“I don’t remember. Something stupid.” Lady sighed. “Do you ever think we left him too much on his own?”

“He’s a big boy,” Trish said, tone dismissive but she looked thoughtful.

Little over two weeks had passed since the conclusion of the Red Grave City incident, not a lot of time to wait, but Morrison had threatened to auction the entire joint off if nothing was done about the place. The deed was originally offered to Nero, but he had quite emphatically declined and, if Morrison’s paraphrasing of the conversation was to be trusted, a string of profanities and mentions of _deadbeat morons rotting in hell_ had been included. So, with the only living relative not an option, the job of sorting through Dante’s worldly belongings fell on his colleagues.

“Honestly, I don’t even know where to start,” Lady said. Just looking around the office, seeing the mess, the odd knick-knacks, all the memories, was paralyzing.

“How about we just start with the desk? Then at least we have a surface to sort things on.”

It was a good thing Trish had agreed to come along. Despite their less-than-amicable first meeting, the demoness had quickly become an important friend. She was fun to be around, but more importantly for their current situation, she was good at getting things done.

Armed with gloves, cleaning rags and large waste bags, they went about clearing the desk. Garbage, food containers and magazines going into the waste bags, while more personal items were carefully packed into a cardboard box. Lady paused for a moment as she was dusting off Eva’s portrait. Dante hardly ever mentioned his mother, but on several occasions, particularly when faced with a difficult decision, she’s noticed him glance at the portrait, as if consulting it for answers. She was struck by the hope that he really did find his answers in the end.

She wrapped up the now clean portrait and placed it in the box. Even if Nero didn’t want the shop, she still wanted him to have a chance to go through these things and no matter how he felt about it, that picture was of his grandmother. Even if he could accept nothing else, he should at least have that.

“Hey, come look at this,” Trish called out. She was crouched behind the desk, going through the drawers. She shuffled to the side to allow room for Lady to see. The bottom drawer was open and contained just a single item; a plain-looking wooden box. “What do you think is in here?”

“Only one way to find out.”

They placed the box on the now mostly cleared desk. It was locked, but the key had been left in, more a suggestion than an obstacle.

“Do you think it’s anything demonic? Like a weapon?” Lady would rather not have to deal with any vengeful entities today.

“I don’t feel anything unusual from it,” Trish said. “And if it was anything really bad, he’d probably hide it better, right?”

“I suppose so.”

Even so, Lady held back a breath as Trish turned the key and opened the box, letting it go as a low huff when the contents were revealed. Papers, just a stack of papers. Some loose, some stuffed into envelopes - some crisp and new, some worn and crinkled after what must have been years of being shuffled around.

Trish picked up a thick envelope and pulled out one of the documents. After looking at it, she pulled out another one. “These all appear to be bank statements.”

“Let me see.” Lady took another page from the envelope. Trish was right, it was a bank statement, this one from more than a decade ago. “What in hell…” She took another one, but it told the same story. “That son of a…”

She really didn’t want to be angry at him, not right now, but she couldn’t help it. How many times had he come to her, begging for a loan to pay basic utilities, when she now learned that he simultaneously had been stashing money away in a secret account, using an alias, for what seemed like _decades!_

“I can’t believe this! This is where all his money went?!” Dante being plainly bad at managing his money was one thing, but to deceive her like this? If he wasn’t already in hell, she’d be more than happy to send him there herself.

“Hold up a moment,” Trish said, handing her another piece of paper. “I think you should read this.”

It was a hand-written letter, on the kind of fancy decorated letter paper a young girl would use. The writing was delicate but slightly uneven, colorful stickers of cute animals were placed in each corner. It had to have been written by a child. The letter wasn’t crinkled, but the folds were almost wearing through the paper, like it had been read over and over for years.

Lady swallowed, feeling like she was encroaching on something very private. Something that even after all these years, Dante had never told her about.

_Dear Tony_

_I hope you are doing well!_

_Tiki was really surprised went we got your letter. We never knew you were the one who sent all the money Morrison brings and we both want to say thank you._

_I’m sorry I don’t remember you very much, Tony, but you never forgot about us after all this time! We are both doing well, I’m in eight grade now and Tiki will soon graduate high school. Maybe you could come for her graduation? (She says you don’t have to come, but I think it would make her happy. Maybe you can tell us stories about dad and Jessica?)_

_You don’t have to worry about us and you don’t have to send more money. Tiki says we will be fine on our own. We promise._

_Love and hugs,_

_Nesty_

After she finished reading, she carefully folded the letter again. Her eyes burned and at the same time she wanted to punch something, the reason for either wasn’t quite clear to her.

“You didn’t know about this?” Trish asked quietly, still leafing through the bank documents.

“No. He never said anything.”

“Some of these date back almost twenty years. That letter isn’t dated, but it appears he kept making deposits. The newest one is only from two months ago.”

“That bastard…”

Trish chuckled. “You’re just angry that you can’t be angry at him.”

It was true. Lady had been ready to tear him a new one just a moment ago, but now she didn’t know how to feel.

Trish removed the last of the documents, revealing a faded polaroid photograph at the very bottom of the box. She picked it up to show to Lady.

It showed Dante, younger even than he’d been when they first met. Hardly more than a boy, with a lopsided grin and sparkling eyes under his pale fringe. He was sitting at a table, apparently after a meal. A girl a few years younger stood next to his chair with a shy smile and her hand clasped in front of her. A toddler sat on his leg, a sprawl of flailing limbs with one hand tugging at Dante’s hair so he had to incline his head a little. A third child, maybe around five or six, seemed ready to climb up to her sister. _Tony and the girls_ was handwritten in the margin.

Lady had seen many a grin and smirk on Dante’s face, but she couldn’t recall ever seeing him this at ease before.

“How unfair,” she muttered.

It was almost midnight by the time they locked up the office. There was still lots to do, they had barely started with the back rooms and the upstairs living space would probably take several days to get through. After they finished stashing the boxes in Lady’s trusty pickup and setting the garbage out to be picked up in the morning, they said their farewells and Trish mounted her motorcycle to speed off into the night.

Exhausted, Lady dragged herself into the driver’s seat, promising herself that she would bring it all to Nero’s place once they were done. He didn’t understand it, not yet. He might think forgetting helps, that if you don’t look, it will all go away. Lady knew better. If he threw all these things away without even looking it over, he would regret it one day.

She knew from experience.


	2. What was missed

“I don’t care! I don’t need any of his old junk!” Water splashed from the sink where Nero was doing the dishes. He wrinkled his nose when some soap suds landed on it and now his shirt was wet. He swore he could still hear his outburst ringing in the kitchen, and Kyrie’s surprised face, not angry or scared, made him feel awful. Putting the dish down more carefully this time, thankful he hadn’t broken it, he tried to release some of the tension in his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Kyrie. I shouldn’t-”

“Nero.” Her hand on his shoulder was grounding and her gentle smile was a lifeline he could always hold on to, even when it was just a memory in his head. “It’s okay, I understand you are frustrated, but they are your family. You should give it a chance.”

She always knew what to say and Nero loved her for that, but right now he just wanted to be petulant in peace.

“You’re not really angry at them, are you?” She asked.

He shook his head as he toweled his hands. Having two normal hands again felt good, there was that at least.

“No, I’m- It’s not-,” why was it so hard to articulate? Instead of trying to put things he didn’t understand into words, he decided to stick with what he knew. So he took one of Kyrie’s hands in both of his and pressed a light kiss on her knuckles. “All the family I need is right here.”

“Awww, that’s just too sweet!” Nico crowed from the balcony where she had been smoking a cigarette. “Ain’t you two just the cutest little things? I’m swooning here!”

“A little courtesy here, Nico?” Nero admonished with a glare.

“Oh, don’t mind me.” She waved her hand dismissively as she walked into the kitchen. “Not even here. Like a fly on the wall.”

“Are flies always this noisy?”

“We do like to… buzz,” Nico said with a grin. She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Now quit moping and get this done. You’ll feel better after, promise.” She left the kitchen, muttering something about wanting to be there to greet Lady as she descended the stairs.

“It will be okay,” Kyrie reassured and Nero gave her hand a squeeze, grateful she was here.

“Yeah.” It would be okay.

Even so, Nero still had a nagging sense of unease when Lady’s truck came to a stop outside the garage. Cardboard boxes were piled in the back, along with smaller pieces of furniture and a few plastic bags.

“Oh no, this is a lot,” he groaned.

Kyrie nudged his side before going to greet Lady who was emerging from the cabin, but Nico got there first.

“Welcome to Fortuna! Hope you like it here!”

“She’s been here before, you know,” Nero groused.

“What difference does that make? I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Thank you for taking the time to bring it all here,” Kyrie said. “It means a lot to us.”

Nero carefully avoided Lady’s concerned gaze, instead looking over the cargo with resigned disdain. “This is... way more than I thought.”

“Tell me about it,” Lady concurred. “Even with Trish helping it took almost a week to sort everything out. I don’t know what to do about half of this stuff.”

Nero shrugged. “Sell it, give it to charity, I don’t really-,” Nero stopped when he felt another nudge at his side, finding Kyrie looking up at him pointedly. “I’ll think of something.”

“Ya got any weapons in there?” Nico could barely contain her excitement.

“A few,” Lady replied. “Not as many as you might think, he tended to sell them off.”

“Let’s worry about all that later,” Kyrie chimed in. ”You must be exhausted after driving that far. The kids will be back soon and we can all have dinner together.”

“That sounds wonderful, thanks.” Lady’s smile was genuine and grateful, but as they started to move inside, she shot a teasing glance at Nero. “Kids, eh?”

“ _ Foster _ kids,” he gritted.

“Ah, I see. How many?”

“Three.”

She whistled. “Must be a lively household.”

“You have no idea.”

It was indeed rowdy as everyone settled down for dinner. Julio and Carlo both seemed fascinated by Lady, pestering her with all sorts of questions, while Kyle was half asleep in Nico’s lap. The subject inevitably turned to the truck outside.

“That’s your truck, Lady?”

“All of that stuff is Nero’s?”

“Nero has an uncle?”

“What happened to your uncle, Nero?”

“Alright, you two, one thing at a time,” Nero cut in.

“Is he dead?” Julio asked with such earnest concern that Nero didn’t know how to respond. These kids had all lost their own families and he hated bringing anything up to remind them of that.

It was Kyrie who came to the rescue. “Nero’s uncle is fine. He’s just travelling and might not come back for a while, so we are keeping his things for him.”

“Okay.” Julio seemed satisfied with the answer. “I’m glad he’s not dead.”

Things quieted down after that and the food was delicious and plentiful as always. Kyrie graciously accepted Lady’s compliments on their home and when they were done eating she took the kids upstairs to start the long and complicated process of preparing them for bedtime. Normally that was a two-man job, but if Lady was to leave before nightfall they’d need Nero to help unload the truck.

While Nico was moving the van to make room to stash the boxes in the garage, Lady pulled Nero aside. She pointed him a box that had been marked with an X on the side.

“Anything special in that one?” He asked as he helped her unload it.

“You tell me,” she said, pulling out a boxcutter from her back pocket.

Inside were a stack of folders, business documents it seemed, as well as several objects that had been individually wrapped. Lady handed one of them to Nero.

He shot her an apprehensive look. “What’s this?”

“Find out for yourself. I don’t think he ever showed you this.”

He unwrapped it, finding a framed photograph inside.

“Is this... Trish?”

“No, she looks similar, but that’s Eva. Your grandmother.”

“Oh.”

Now that he looked closer, he could see that it was indeed not Trish. This woman had a gentle calmness about her that he’d never seen on Trish. A sort of quiet dignity and strength. She reminded him a bit of Kyrie.

“It doesn’t matter to me what you do with the rest of the stuff,” Lady said quietly, “but keep this, at least. Promise me.”

It just the span of a month, Nero had gone from believing himself completely alone in the world, to suddenly having an extended family. He felt guilty. It was more than he could have ever asked for, ever have reasonably hoped for, so why wasn’t he happy? The kids would have been overjoyed to learn of relatives, no matter how distant, so why did he have to be such a brat about it?

“Y-yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I will. Thank you.”

Her smile was small, but genuine. “It gets easier, you know. After a while.” She kneeled down to pull a wooden box from underneath to document folders. “I almost forgot about this, I’m taking it back with me.”

“What is it?”

“Something I want to look into. It’s not anything to worry about.”

“If you say so.”

“So, Lady,” Nico had returned from the garage, “where’d you keep the weapons?”

It was getting dark by the time they finished unloading the truck and stacking the boxes and furniture at the back of the garage. Kyrie came down with refreshments and they took a moment to rest before Lady had to leave.

Nero sat on a stool, turning a cold beer can in his hands. Lady had a soda to perk her up before driving home and was currently quizzing Nico on the possibility of a second Kalina Ann replica, still clearly upset Dante had taken  _ both  _ of them with him.

“Are you selling the shop, then?” He asked.

Lady sighed. “We have to. No one else wants to run it and Morrison won’t get off my back about it.”

Nico shrugged, lighting another cigarette. “This just me, but I think he should give them a bit more time. I mean they  _ could  _ come back if they have your daddy’s sword, right?”

“I guess,” Nero said. “I don’t really know how it works. I had the Yamato for years and I never knew what it could do.” He realized he’d been subconsciously squeezing his right arm, leaving red marks on his wrist. At least he hadn’t dropped his beer.

It was at this very spot he had lost the Yamato, and his arm along with it. Even is his arm had regrown, he still sometimes felt pangs of what could only be described as phantom pain. If they could return, if they  _ did, _ what would he do? He had longed for a family of his own his entire life, and now that he knew he had one… Why did it have to be like this? He’d beaten Vergil, but it hadn’t made him feel any better. He doubted anything could.

“Well, I guess I should be off,” Lady said as she got up. “Pass my thanks on to Kyrie for her hospitality and excellent cooking.”

“Yeah, I will.” Nero felt dazed and was just now realising how tired he actually was.

“Safe trip home, Lady,” Nico said, pulling her into a hug. “And I’ll look into making a new masterpiece for you. Even better than the last, I promise.”

“I’ll owe you one.”

“You betcha!”

After Lady drove off and Nico had retreated to her own den, Nero found Kyrie in the living room, reading in her armchair. She closed her book and got up when she saw him.

“Nero.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you alright?”

She pulled him into an embrace and he buried his face against her neck with a long sigh. He was so lucky in so many ways. How could he ever wish for anything more?

“Yeah.”

He was okay.


	3. What was lost

A few weeks after her trip to Fortuna, Lady once again visited the old Devil May Cry office. She took a moment before going in, looking over the familiar facade. The sign had long been taken down, but the building would always be unmistakable. She had so many memories of this place, and today was likely the last time she would ever come here.

The door was unlocked and Morrison was already inside, studying the empty space. It looked so much bigger now, and it was cleaner than it had probably been for decades.

“Nostalgic, isn’t it?” He said, not bothering to check who had come in. “Particularly for the two of us.”

“Do you know anything about the buyer?” She didn’t really care, but she would rather change the subject than have to respond to Morrison’s comment.

“Not much. Does it matter?”

“Not really.” She fished her keys out of her pocket, separating the spare she had from the chain. “Here you go.”

“Much obliged, and in return…” He handed her an envelope. “With this any standing debt Dante has to you should be covered.”

Peeking into the envelope, she found it packed with bills. “Oh. Thanks.”

He tipped his hat to her. “I hope we can do more business in the future. The profession lost one of it’s best and we need new people to step up.”

It annoyed her how Morrison seemed to consider Dante as good as dead. He’d known him for years, why didn’t he have more faith in him?

“We will see about that.”

“Then I will bid you good day, Lady,” he said as he made to leave.

“Actually, there’s one more thing, Morrison. There’s something I want to know.”

He turned away from the door. “Oh? Ask away.”

“Tiki and Nesty, anything you can tell me about them? What’s their connection to Dante?”

Morrison looked thoughtful. “I suppose your would have learned of them, having gone through his things…” He pulled a cigar case out of his breast pocket. “Come outside with me, I will tell you what I can.”

She obliged, waiting patiently as he locked the door behind them and cut his cigar.

“It was before your time, he was hardly more than a kid back then. Went by Tony at the time.” He paused to pulse on his cigar and Lady discreetly waved the smoke away from her face. “This was before he… specialized. He was just a common mercenary back then, dime a dozen, but he always had that special _something_ , and he was a pain in the ass to work with. He had a partner, though perhaps father figure is more accurate, Grue was the only one who could keep that kid in line.”

“Grue?”

“Tiki and Nesty are Grue’s daughters.”

“Dante never mentioned him.”

“I supposed he wouldn’t. Grue died, and so did his oldest daughter, Jessica. Word among mercenaries is that Dante was responsible somehow.”

“He would never-!”

“I’m not saying he did anything, but back then… He was considered bad luck. Misfortune clung to that kid like a burr. A lot of good people died.” Morrison shrugged, letting out a cloud of foul-smelling smoke. “Was there anything he could have done to prevent those deaths? Maybe not, but the stigma followed him until he left the business and went independent. I don’t know exactly what happened back then, but Dante never stopped beating himself up about it.”

“Hence the money.”

“You got it. He made deposits every month, no one could talk him out of it. Believe me, I tried.”

It was all a bit much to take in for Lady, but it also explained a lot. “Do you know where they are now, Tiki and Nesty?”

Morrison pulled out a notepad and pen, writing something down. “Go to this address, ask for Sally, she basically raised the girls.”

“Thanks,” Lady said, taking the slip of paper.

“Word of warning, though, she despises Tony. If the girls would mourn him, Sally would just as soon bury him deeper.”

“You keep talking like that.”

“Like?”

“Like he’s dead!”

Morrison took a long, final drag on his cigar. “It’s true he ain’t dead, but there is also no guarantee he will ever return. What do you plan on telling the girls?”

“I…”

“Well, I’ll leave it at your discretion. Just remember, they know him as Tony, they don’t know anything about all this demon business, either. Keep it that way.”

Lady didn’t say anything as Morrison tipped his hat again.

“I’ll see you around, Lady.”

She had an awful lot to think about.

\------------------------------------------------------

Going through Dante’s belongings was truly a sisyphean task. Even after Nico had absconded with all weapons and demonic knick-knacks for _examination and safe-keeping_ , Nero was still left with a mountain of junk. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t constantly change his mind, just as soon as he’d decided to throw out a pile or take it to a charity, he would think better of it and end back at square one.

Much to his surprise, some of the heavier boxes had turned out to contain books. He couldn’t recall ever seeing Dante with anything more complex than a picture magazine, but apparently the guy had books on a wide variety of subjects, mostly non-fiction and instructional books with the odd novel tucked in between. Memoirs, true crime, paranormal and occult books, even a few on philosophy and psychology, which seemed so wildly out of character it blew Nero’s mind a little. Who’d allowed the old man to develop depth of character all of a sudden? He’d much rather imagine Dante getting drunk off his ass and looking at titty magazines all day, than contemplating the secrets of the universe. It was creepy to even think about.

He threw the book he had been leafing through back on the pile with a disgusted groan. There were so many other, and more productive, things he could be doing. Red Queen needed maintenance, the van could use a good scrubbing down and Carlo’s bike had a flat tire he’d promised to fix. It was a waste of time and yet he kept coming back to it.

He was ripped from his thoughts when he heard Kyrie calling from upstairs.

“Lady’s on the phone!”

“Nico’s not here right now!” He called back.

“She wants to talk to you, Nero!”

Well, then.

Kicking off his boots, he went up to the kitchen and picked the phone handle from where Kyrie had left it on the counter.

“Nero here.”

“Nero? How is the sorting going?”

Nero sneered. “Want an honest answer?”

“Not good, then. Look, could you do me a favor?”

“Depends, I’m very busy.”

“I borrow you for a day, Nico too if she wants to come.”

“That’s a pretty big request.”

“I know. In exchange, I’ll take all the stuff you haven’t sorted out off your hands again. I don’t really have space, but I suppose I could rent storage somewhere.”

Nero thought about it. “Just one day?”

“Just a day. There are some people I’m meeting and… I’d just like you to be there. I don’t want to explain over the phone, it’s a long story-”

“Goddammit, this is about him again, isn’t it?”

“...Yeah. It is.”

He knew Lady only wanted to help, but he would go crazy if he was never allowed to let this rest. Still, if he did this, she’d take the junk. Then maybe he could finally move on with his life.

“Alright. I’ll come, but this is the last time, okay?”

“Last time,” Lady agreed.

Whatever Lady had planned couldn’t possibly be any worse than having to deal with the stack of boxes going forward. He’d had quite enough of that in the past few weeks and if this meant they could put all of this behind them… Then it would be worth it.


	4. What was learned

The Demon World was not all doom and gloom. In fact, some parts were quite nice and in their travels they had come upon several vistas that were simply breathtaking. Sure, it was strange, full of angry demons and operated entirely on its own rules, but the Demon World wasn't a terrible place at all.

They were resting in the crumbled remains of a cathedral that appeared to have been taken wholly, foundation, dirt and all, from the Human World. How it has ended up here Dante couldn't hope to guess, but maybe the enormous bones of the ancient beast that lay curled around it held some clues. He didn't particularly care, but it sure was an oddity.

He was sprawled on a piece of rubble, not concerned with dignity or appearance, he just wanted to rest for a spell. Vergil perched on the carved parapet above, keeping a lookout for any approaching demons, looking cool as always because that's just what that jerk did.

"So, Vergil," Dante called out. Vergil didn't acknowledge him, but he knew he was listening, so Dante continued. "How long do reckon we've been here by now?"

"Are you concerned?"

"Nah. Would be nice to know, though."

Vergil took a while to answer. "A month, probably more going by human time."

"Seems about right for a vacation." He didn't need to look to sense Vergil glaring at him. 

With a groan he hauled himself into a sitting position and brushed his hair out of his face. First order of business if he got back had to be a haircut, but when he slicked it back and found it sticking there like Vergil's did, he changed his mind. A bath should probably come first. Maybe a drink even before then.

"A vacation?" Vergil landed with a soft thud next to him. "You wish to leave, Dante?"

"I'm not in a hurry, but you know you can't hide in this dump forever."

Vergil's chuckle was without mirth. "This isn't about me. If you want to leave it can be arranged." It sounded like a threat and he punctuated it by materializing Yamato in his hand.

Dante didn't rise to the bait but remained seated. "Not without you, I ain't."

"You're ridiculous."

"So they say."

They were still for a while, waiting for the next move in the game they both knew they were playing.

To Dante's satisfaction, Vergil blinked first.

"I have no purpose there."

"Purpose, eh? Funny thing, that." Dante leaned back to rest on his hands, one boot tapping against the side of the rubble. He knew he was exposing himself, letting his guard down. He knew that Vergil knew it too. It was all part of the game.

"What do you mean?"

"I've had so many purposes over the years. You, mom, dad, you again, Nero's in there too, I guess."

"What's your point?" Vergil was getting agitated now, Dante could tell.

"Even if you don't have a purpose, I'm sure you're smart enough to come up with one. Even I could do it."

"Maybe I don't want a purpose."

"Or maybe, brother dearest, you're scared shitless."

Dante knew it was coming and the Devil Arm that carried his own name was in his hands before the strike to connect to anything more vital. He was honestly surprised it had taken so little to wear his brother down, but to be fair, they were both a bit wrung out at this point.

"I'm. Not. Scared!" Vergil gritted through his teeth. Putting additional strength behind Yamato, he forced Dante to flip back, breaking the parry.

Dante landed on top of the pile of rubble with a laugh and swerved just in time to dodge a summoned sword that whizzed past his ear.

This was also part of the game, a part they had already played through many times before. The malice was long gone from Vergil's blows and they were evenly matched with no real threat of harm coming to either of them. This was simply their way to vent when their words failed. Which they often did, and Dante doubted that would ever change.

By the time they were done the cathedral was in an even worse state and Dante sighed with regret as a spire collapsed behind him.

"I told you, brother, I won't leave you. Never again." 

He was a disheveled mess and Vergil wasn't much better off.

"What's the point? What do you want from me?"

"Don't need a point, I don't want anything."

"But you want to go back."

Dante shrugged. "If possible. But I'm not leaving you."

"So you _do_ want something."

Dante shrugged again. He had nothing more to say.

Vergil spat. "I can't believe you. You want me to go back there and… what exactly? Prostrate myself? Beg for forgiveness? Spend the rest of my life making amends?"

"I don't recall ever saying any of that, but since you bring it up, are you sure that's not what _you_ want?"

Vergil went white as a sheet and Dante braced himself as they went to round two.

\------------------------------------------------------

Even though it hasn’t really been that long, it still felt like a lifetime since they had last been on the road. Seeing Fortuna and the coastline disappear as they drove inland could be either exhilarating or melancholic, depending on the situation. This time Nero was mostly just annoyed.

The morning had been a challenge; not only did they have to load the van, the power had gone out in the house overnight. Apparently something - probably rats - had chewed through some wiring and caused a short circuit, so between packing, coordinating breakfast for three kids with what non-perishable foods they had and trying to fix the electricity, calling it chaotic was maybe an understatement. Despite being a gadgetry wiz-kid, Nico had denied any expertise in electrical wiring code and made the point that having a house with no power was better than having no house at all.

So after calling in an electrician and promising Kyrie a thousand times over that he would make it up to her, they were finally underway.

Even after all the stuff Nico had pilfered, the books Kyrie had stowed away and the articles of clothing the kids had decided to play dress-up with, the van was still full to bursting. He had no plans of giving Lady the chance to back out of her promise, he wanted this out of his hands today.

The drive itself was uneventful and Nero spent most of it napping, he’d probably need to be well rested to deal with whatever Lady had planned. By the time Nico flicked his temple to wake him up, they had already entered the sprawling urban landscape. After their adventure in Red Grave, it was a relief to see Nico being capable of following traffic laws like an actual civilized person, surprising as that was.

“Parking’s gonna be a bitch,” she groaned.

The address Lady had given them was down a series of increasingly narrow alleyways, and eventually they had to leave the van behind and go on foot. Nico gave the vehicle a pat on the hood and told it to watch out for strangers before they left.

The neighborhood had clearly seen better days and when they spotted Lady leaning against a lamp post with a handgun clearly visible at her hip, it occurred to Nero that the situation might not be entirely safe. He’d left Red Queen back home, but Blue Rose was safely holstered under his coat and he wasn’t concerned he whether he could defend himself if needed. Even without the gun, his newly awakened Devil Trigger could stand up to any thugs or common demons. He was more worried about Nico, even talented as she was, she was still a civilian with no combat experience. Still, Lady had invited her so she probably didn’t expect any major trouble.

Nico, unaware and unconcerned with Nero’s thoughts, greeted Lady with an enthusiastic hug and a slightly stuttering account of their morning and why they were so late.

He gave the women a moment to catch up while he examined what had to be their destination. It was a run-down dive bar at basement level, five steep steps lead down to the door which was left ajar, probably in a vain attempt to get some air circulation. The building might be old, but the sign outside was quite new.

“Grue’s Cellar?” It didn’t ring any bells and he wondered what connection his unfortunate uncle could possibly have to this place. It could have just been a regular haunt of his, seemed like the kind of place he’d frequent, but that didn’t explain why Lady wanted him here. Surely she could handle his drinking buddies on her own.

Nico was busy filling Lady in on the progress on Kalina Ann Mark III and loath as Nero was to interrupt, he really didn’t want to waste more time than necessary, especially not in this part of town.

“Mind telling me what all this is about, Lady?”

Disengaging from Nico’s rant, Lady seemed almost… uncomfortable.

“Well… You remember how Dante was somehow always broke?”

“Yeah?”

Lady sighed and then threw out her arms. “I solved the mystery! Turns out he’s been making monthly payments to a couple of young ladies his entire adult life.”

Nero stared at her blankly. There was _no way…_

“Are… you’re not trying to tell me I have cousins now?”

“What?” Lady looked genuinely shocked. “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous!”

“Well, thank fuck.” He really didn’t need any more surprises like that. The thought of Dante being a deadbeat father as well was just too much to bear. One was quite enough.

“They’re not related, but,” she fished something out of her pocket and handed it to Nero, “take a look at this.”

A polaroid photo of what could only be a teenage Dante, with a young girl about the same age and two smaller children.

“Tony and the girls?”

“An alias he sometimes used,” Lady said. “Those are Grue’s daughters.”

Nero glanced at the sign outside the bar. “Same one?”

“I’d guess so, but Grue is dead. So is Jessica, his oldest daughter.”

Looking back at the photograph, the oldest girl only seemed around fifteen, sixteen, maybe. She wore a stained apron, indicating she had probably made the food that had been on the plates scattered around the table.

“What a shame,” Nico muttered, looking over his shoulder.

“Grue was like a… mentor.” Lady said. “Morrison couldn’t give me any exact details, but apparently Dante blames himself for his and Jessica’s deaths and made monthly deposits to the remaining sisters since then.”

“So…” Nero still wasn’t sure where all this was going.

“So now he’s gone there won't be any more deposits. It seems only right to tell them…” Lady paused. “Actually that’s the thing, I have no idea what to tell them. They know him as Tony the Unlucky Mercenary, not Dante the Demon Hunter. Telling the truth is out of the question.”

“And you need me to.. What, exactly?”

“Help me decide?” Lady rubbed her temples with a groan. “It’s been bothering me since I found out. I’ve known the guy for decades, but he never mentioned any of this.”

“Still seems like something we could have done over the phone.”

“That may be so, but if I’m being honest…” Lady grew a bit unsure again, like she knew she was overstepping her bounds. “I guess I wanted you to be there to meet them.”

Nero sighed. “And there it is.” Even with the best of intentions, he wished Lady would just let it rest, but considering her now, he suspected this was just as much for her as it was for him. “Fine, let’s get it over with.”

He handed to photo back and began to walk down the stairs.

“Nero, wait! We haven’t decided yet!”

He threw him arms out in exasperation. “I have no idea, either. Let’s just wing it!”

The bells at the door chimed as he threw it open. The afternoon would probably suck and Nero’s policy with unavoidable sucky situations was usually to simply jump in head first.

It had gotten him this far, hadn’t it?


	5. What could have been

“There.” Vergil pointed to the sky with Yamato’s hilt.

Dante craned his neck and squinted, putting up a hand to shade his eyes. It just looked like normal sky to him. As normal as the sky got in the Underworld, anyway.

It had been a few days since their last fight. It ended as it usually did, with the both of them too exhausted to move in a crater of their own creation. At this point there was little to fear from other demons, if they had any wit at all they knew to give the brothers a wide berth by now. After some recuperation and an unusually lengthy discussion on the supposed sloppiness of Dante’s summoned swords, they were on the move again.

The Qliphoth roots had been dealt with weeks ago but there were other routes between the two worlds and Vergil was particularly proficient at spotting them, hence their current situation. The surrounding area was craggy and littered with impossible-looking rock formations, and according to Vergil, there was a passage to the Human World directly above them. They’d been closing off such connections between the two worlds before they could become tangible and usable by demons. A valiant endeavor, but Dante thought Vergil was being a bit too enthusiastic about it.

“I don’t see it, Vergil.”

“Are your eyes failing you in your old age?”

“Do I really have to explain to you how twins work? But, now that you mention it…” There was something Dante had wanted to bring up for a while and this moment was as good as any. “You _do_ look a bit younger than me now.”

“Maybe I take better care of myself,” Vergil said dismissively.

“Ah yes, being held captive and experimented on by a demonic emperor for over a decade does wonders for the complexion. Makes sense.”

Vergil didn’t respond and for a moment Dante thought he might attack again, but instead he went to sit on a rocky outcrop, leaning against Yamato with his chin on his hands. He looked tired and for the first time since his brother’s return, Dante thought he could see a bit of V in him.

“I suspect it’s more complicated than that.” Vergil said.

Figuring it was a truce for now, Dante settled in a cross-legged position opposite his brother. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but Vergil seemed more amicable than usual. If it kept going like this, they might even be able to have an actual conversation before they _both_ succumbed to old age.

“Something to do with V? He - well, you, I guess - seemed even younger, now that I think about it. How does all that even work?”

Vergil was thoughtful, like he was humoring Dante enough to reply but taking his time.

“V was my human side,” he began, “the parts that had been suppressed for decades, I suppose since the time we fought at Temen-ni-Gru. That’s likely why I... he… appeared around that age.”

“So basically what you’re saying is that you’re emotionally immature, gotcha.” If looks could kill Dante would tragically deceased in this moment, put it had been too perfect to pass up.

Even so, quite amazingly, Vergil was disinclined to get up. He merely glared at Dante over pale knuckles. Maybe they really were making some progress, after all.

“As for my body,” he continued, “I doubt I can say for sure how much of the original remains. In a physical sense at least. I was falling apart when I… reclaimed Yamato. I had no idea that being rejoined would restore me, V simply… didn’t want to die.”

The explanation, despite it’s stilted delivery, made some sense to Dante. While he hadn’t realized that V was Vergil - which seemed really stupid now, but it was what it was - the strange man had been grimly determined to the very end. Moreso, now that he knew who he was, it was clear that V - and by extension Vergil - had wanted to make amends, walk a different path. At least if Trish was to be believed. Maybe his twin really had grown, after all.

“He was an alright sort, that V. Even Nero seemed to trust him, eventually.”

Vergil scowled. “I hated it. I hated being V.”

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. At times it seemed like you actually had fun.”

“Fun?” Vergil chuckled, not happy but in disbelief. “No, Dante, being weak and… frightened, was not fun in the slightest.”

Getting up, Dante turned from his brother to gaze into the distance. Whatever light source was in the Demon World - he wasn’t sure if calling it the sun would be right - was setting. He hadn’t been kidding. He’d seen V fight on several occasions and while the differences to Vergil’s usual style was obvious, the biggest difference had been V’s attitude. That eccentric theatricality might have been an act, but even so, V had seemed to relish it.

“I hate having to break this to you, Vergil.” Dante was quieter than usual, gravity in his voice. “But being weak and scared is part of being human. You tried throwing that part of you aside and look where that got us. You need a new angle on this.”

“A new angle?”

Spinning to face his brother, Dante threw his arms in a grand gesture. “This. Us.”

Vergil quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I mean,” Dante continued, “you ever wonder how either of us ended up like we did?”

Vergil inclined his head as if to signal Dante to go on.

“Even after mom, I had people I could rely on. Granted, a lot of it was messy and it didn’t end well for everyone, but still.” Dante paused for a breath. It was surprisingly hard to talk about. “You were on your own. Even after I learned you were alive.. Well, I could have handled that better, but I was young and stupid and you didn’t exactly give me much of a choice at the time.”

“You’re still stupid.” Even with the disgruntled look on his face, Vergil’s words lacked venom.

“Maybe, but I’m not so stupid I don’t see my own mistakes for what they are!” Dante was agitated now. He hardly ever put his feelings into words, at least not spoken ones. Usually he let them do a few laps in his head before drowning them in bourbon. A mercy, he’d thought, but maybe he needed a new angle as well. His old one hadn’t exactly worked out. “I had to give up on you, several times over, and when Urizen showed up I thought that maybe, _finally_ , I could end it once and for all. Put you to rest.”

Being haunted by the ghost of his brother, always wondering if things could have been different, if he could have _done_ something different… In the end it had been easier to just see it as inevitable, something out of his control that was just meant to be. It had taken a brash kid with a mean punch to make him consider than maybe, just maybe, it was not too late.

“What I want to say is…” This was it. “I’m not going to give up on you again, Vergil. Whatever you decide, I’ll be there.” Dante was no stranger to cheesy lines, but this time even he cringed a bit. Whatever, he could endure if it meant his knucklehead brother finally got the message. “For what it’s worth.”

Vergil was quiet. He didn’t look at Dante but instead appeared intensely interested in a patch of dirt just in front of Dante’s feet. He was silent for so long it was starting to freak Dante out a bit, but he intuitively knew that - for once in his life - he should probably keep his mouth shut.

“Whatever I decide, huh?” Vergil finally said.

Dante shrugged. He knew it might mean they would spend the rest of their life here, but there were worse outcomes.

Whatever the case, he had meant everything he said.

\------------------------------------------------------

It was still too early in the afternoon for Grue’s Cellar to see any significant patronage, in fact, it appeared the only customer was sleeping off a hangover in the corner.

A middle-aged woman with a drawn face was polishing a glass, not paying them any particular mind when they entered. Lady took the initiative to step up to the counter.

“Are you Sally?”

The woman took her time putting the glass away. “Who wants to know?” She looked them over with disinterest, until her narrow eyes came to rest on Nero. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She didn’t look pleased.

Nero glared back and Lady stepped in front of him, hoping to not make their first impression worse than strictly necessary.

“I hope we’re not imposing, but we would really like to ask you a few questions,” she said, putting up her friendliest face.

The woman - Sally, if her reaction to Nero was anything to go by - put her elbows on the counter, getting uncomfortably close to Lady’s face. “Look, honey, information’s not free around here. You wanna stay, you buy something. Otherwise, get out.”

Lady looked over her shoulder. Nero had his hackles raised and Nico didn’t appear to want to engage at all.

“So what’ll it be?” Sally asked, looking awfully smug.

They ended up taking seats around one of the tables in awkward silence as they waited for their orders. Nico had been delighted to discover they served sundaes, but Sally gave her a look that could best be described as venomous when she ordered one.

“What’s her deal?” Nico said in a hushed voice once they were seated.

“She’s not one of _Tony's_ biggest fans, from what I heard,” Lady replied, keeping an eye on Sally shuffling around behind the counter. “Remember to use that name.”

Nero had been quiet since they entered. He sat with crossed arms, tipping his chair back a little. Lady was starting to think that bringing him might not have been a good idea after all.

Sally arrived with their drinks and - much to Lady’s surprise - she pulled out a chair for herself and sat down at the table.

“Considering that one,” she gestured to Nero, “I think I can guess what this is about, but ask away. It’s been a slow day after all.”

“Actually,” Lady started, “we were hoping to talk to Tiki and Nesty.”

Sally laughed, a humorless croaking. “Over my dead body you are.” 

Nero tipped his chair forward with a thump. “Listen, you-”

“No, you listen!” Sally’s voice pierced. “Don’t think you can come in here, spitting image of that boy, and make demands. Those two have their own lives now and if I ever hear mention of Tony again, it would be too soon! I don’t need you bringing ghosts of the past into my establishment, my girls have suffered enough as it is.”

“Could you keep it down?” Came the low groan from the patron in the corner, but none of them paid him any mind.

It was much worse than Lady had imagined. Nero bristled, Nico was somewhere else entirely, her icecream taking all her attention, and getting anything out of Sally would be a challenge.

Seeing just one option, she took out the photograph and placed it on the table. “I suppose the good news is that you won’t have to hear from him again. He’s gone.”

Sally eyed the photo suspiciously. “You mean someone finally put him six feet under? Hard to believe.”

“Something like that.” Lady grimaced. She hated talking about him like he was dead.

Expression softening just a bit, Sally picked up the photo. “He was cute, I’ll give him that. Could have been a real heartthrob if he’d ever put his mind to it. That boy was half-assed in everything he did.” She glanced at Nero. “So how did you come to be?”

Startled, Nero was delayed in answering. He cleared his throat. “I’m… his nephew.”

Lady was pretty sure that was the first time she’d heard him use the word.

“I see, that makes sense.” Sally tsked. “So, he’s gone, something like dead. I may hate his guts, but the girls still have their shining _big-bro_ image of him. They won't be happy to hear this.” It was her turn to lean back with crossed arms. “Are you sure you want to bring more tragedy into their lives?”

Lady sighed. “I understand that you just want to protect them, but aren’t they adults? Besides we might not even have a choice. Tony won't be making payments anymore.”

Sally gave her an odd look and in the same moment, the bell at the door chimed. Everyone at the table snapped around to see two women enter. The shorter one had fluffy curls reaching her chin, the other a loose ponytail.

Sally got up so fast her chair scraped against the rough wood floor. “You two shouldn’t be here yet!”

The two looked over their little congregation in confusion. It was strange seeing them like this, probably closer to thirty than twenty, but Lady knew without a doubt that it was Tiki and Nesty.

“Auntie?” The shorter one spoke. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. These people were just leaving.” Sally’s words were pointed and her look left little to interpretation. They weren’t welcome anymore.

“Wait,” said the taller one, probably Tiki. She was looking intently at Nero who seemed to balk a bit at the scrutiny. Then her face broke into a smile. “Are you… friends of Tony?”

“No way!” The other exclaimed.

Sally groaned. “I know when I’m beat. I’ll be in the back.” To Lady she muttered: “Don’t you dare break their hearts.”

Lady wasn’t sure if she could keep that promise.


	6. What could never be forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about how long it took to update this! Lots of stuff came up, but I'm still determined to finish this, only 2 chapters to go! This one if a bit longer (and maybe rantier), if that makes up for it.

After Nero, the second thing Tiki noticed was the picture on the table. “Gosh, Nesty! Come look at this!”

Nesty hastily joined her sister and the two of them spent the next moments cooing over the photograph.

“Look how small you were!”

“I look like such a brat.”

“Dad must have taken this…”

“He’s way more handsome than you said.”

“I was five!”

“I don’t even remember this being taken.”

“You were two!”

“And look…”

“Jessica…”

They turned somber then, and it took a moment before Tiki addressed them again. “How did you come by this? And find us?”

“He wrote to us - must have been almost fifteen years ago,” Nesty said, “but we never heard from him since.”

It occurred to Lady that the timing coincided with Dante’s trip to Mallet Island. She’s never known him to be overly sentimental, but she did remember him being mopey and weirdly needy for a while after that. Perhaps in his own grief, he’d wanted to reach out.

“We always wondered what happened,” Tiki added. “How he was doing. If you can tell us anything - oh sorry, we’ve been going off and you haven’t even introduced yourselves.”

During the following round of introduction, the patron in the corner piped up again when Nico said her full name. “Goldstein? I remember her! Best goddamn gunsmith I ever knew. A real artist, that one.”

Needless to say, Nico wasn’t really present for the conversation that followed.

“Nero, was it? You’re Tony’s nephew? We didn’t know he had siblings.”

“Neither did I,” Nero muttered under his breath.

“We wanted to ask you about the money Tony sent you,” Lady said.

The sisters shared a look before Tiki replied. “He did do that, after he disappeared. We didn’t know it was him at first, we were both very young at the time, you know.”

“Sally said it was because he felt guilty,” Nesty said quietly.

“Nesty!”

“What? I never said I believed her, just...” Nesty hesitated. “I don’t remember him like you do. No one knows what really happened, but… Even so, we never wanted him to feel that way.”

“So we asked him to stop,” Tiki said. “It wasn’t like… dirty money or something, was it?”

“Oh, no, nothing of the sort!” Lady reassured. At least if you discounted all his standing debt to her over the years.

“That’s a relief.”

“But he did stop eventually,” Nesty added.

Lady and Nero shared a look.

“Wait a minute.” That couldn't be right. “What do you mean he stopped?” The statements she found had clearly been going until just recently. This didn’t add up.

“Must have been about a year after the letters,” Tiki said, looking thoughtful. “He gave up after we turned it away so many times, I guess.”

Lady’s blood boiled. Had… Had Morrison been stealing from Dante? And by extension her, for all this time? She couldn’t believe it, but what other explanation was there? Nero tapped her arm as a warning before she started seeing red. The sisters were regarding her quizzically and she tried to calm down. She had to confirm this before throwing any accusations around.

“You still haven’t told us how Tony is doing these days.” Nesty’s smile was earnest, but both sisters looked a bit concerned.

“Well, he- he’s…” Unprepared and a bit rattled, Lady didn’t know what to say.

To her surprise, Nero came to the rescue. “He’s alive,” he said resolutely. “Bastard’s like a roach, doubt even a nuclear blast could take him out.”

“That… does sound like him, from what I’ve heard,” Tiki said. “And it’s a relief to hear.”

“Do you know where he is?” Nesty asked.

“Not at the moment, but he’s bound to show up sooner or later.” Nero’s confidence in the statement took Lady aback and she cracked a small smile when she heard him add under his breath: “He has to…”

Not counting the talk she would need to have with Morrison, it seemed like this wasn’t a waste of time after all.

\------------------------------------------------------

Since their conversation, arguably their first real one, Vergil had been mulling over it. Replaying parts of it in his head, searching for ulterior motives, any sign of deceit. He wouldn’t call it paranoia; in his experience his decisions rarely stuck, or lead to anything good if they did. For a large part of his existence, he’d been unable to make any at all.

Dante was perfectly willing to follow his lead, wherever that would take them, no questions asked. It was unnerving, and while the reason for that wasn’t entirely clear to him, a small but insistent part of his mind kept nagging him with a suggestion; what if he made the wrong choice? His track record wasn’t great, but that’s not what bothered him. Regardless of what consequences his choices had for his surroundings, he’d always made them entirely for himself. Now he had to account for his twin.

Being responsible for someone else, even someone as  _ admittedly  _ capable, was entirely alien to him.

To make matters worse, Dante hadn’t brought up anything related to the Human World since then. He had talked, commented on their surroundings, on what they were currently doing. He had teased as was his nature, but it was little more than toothless prodding, more in the spirit of camaraderie than insult. They had sparred and it was productive; as unsightly as he thought Dante’s usage of summoned swords was, he couldn’t deny its effectiveness anymore. No veiled leading questions or suggestions to return. No games.

Basically, their little jaunt through Hell was entirely too enjoyable. There had to be a catch, there always was one.

Vergil came to a halt on a hill when he felt Yamato hum. It was quaint to think that he once needed to carry the sword by hand, now it was a part of him as surely as Dante’s Devil Arm was a part of him. Resting somewhere within his soul, it had a lot to say. Right now it was warning him.

“Something here?” Dante had been casually strolling along behind him, following Vergil’s directions like a faithful old dog and occasionally kicking the puffball-like growths in the field for amusement. Now he came to stand at Vergil’s side, more alert than he’d been in weeks. He had to sense it too.

“Something big.” Bigger than anything they’d encountered since they stepped foot here.

They had entered with a slaughter, and several more had followed as they had severed the Qliphoth roots. Since then things had calmed down, most demons knew to leave them alone and if any got too frisky they never lived to regret it. This presence was imposing, nowhere near Mundus level, but Vergil still felt the hair on his neck stand up.

“That big, huh?” Despite his nonchalant tone, Dante summoned his Devil Arm and pushed his feet further apart, bracing for whatever was coming.

There was nothing on the horizon, no indication of what was approaching them. It was just a moment later he felt it; the slightest tremor in the ground. They must have both sensed it, as Dante jumped the same instant he did.

They flipped in opposite directions just in time to avoid the maws of the gigantic beast that burst from the soil.

“Yup, very big,” Dante remarked, “if not entirely original.”

Dante was right, this creature had a strong resemblance to the Gigapede found in Temen-ni-Gru, but much, much larger. And angrier.

It turned its rotating jaw towards Dante, poised to strike like a viper, and from that angle Vergil could see all the faces on its back. Other demons, probably hundreds of them. Lessers, commons, even a few greater ones, all fused to the skin of the worm in a sickening mess of writhing limbs. While he had never seen it before, he had heard of it, whispered around his barely conscious state as Nelo Angelo. The Chimerapede, a voracious creature that even Lords hesitated to engage. Rather than simply devour its prey, it fashioned it into a part of itself, absorbing its energy and power. In summary, it was stupid, vicious and incredibly dangerous. One false move and it would not be the end, but the beginning of a wretched existence as part of its skin.

“Yeah, you!” Dante jeered. “The gigantic tapeworm look has been done before. Get creative, won’t you?”

The Chimerapede roared, the combined wail of all the demons on its back, and struck. Dante leapt out of the way with a whoop, narrowly evading the jaws burrowing into the ground where he had been. 

It kept screaming as it slithered into the ground, only to fall completely silent once it was out of sight. Vergil scanned their surroundings, wary of where it might appear next. It was hunting them. The Chimerapede was indeed stupid, but it had excellent senses and no reservations. Of all the things that could have attacked them…

His demon form sizzled just under his skin, ready to emerge at a moment’s notice. Ever on the same page, it seemed, he saw red sparks surrounding Dante’s form further away. Vergil smirked. If they struck together, the worm would be as good as dead once it dared to appear again. Yamato chimed in his grip, pleased to see a real fight after this long.

This time they were prepared; when the ground rumbled again and the worm burst forth, spinning around itself, their attack was simultaneous. Two devils coming from opposite sides, they struck - and were promptly bounced off, their blades unexpectedly repelled by a shell of demonic power.

Having realized they might need to convene for this, Dante had flown to Vergil’s side before dropping his devil form. “What the hell? It shields?”

“This may be a singular creature, but it contains the combined powers of hundreds of demons.” He had briefly been close enough to see the demons on its back flailing their clawed hands, chanting. 

“Adding theft to plagiarism, I see,” Dante scoffed. “Any suggestions?”

So even in this Dante trusted him to make the call. Luckily, he did have a plan.

“The shield isn’t in one piece, but smaller ones conjured by those demons. If we focus on one spot we can break through.”

“The segment behind its head seems good.”

Vergil nodded. It had a limited range of motion in each segment and wouldn’t be able to grab them from there. There was no telling if it had any more hidden surprises, but it was a good plan for now.

The Chimerapede thrashed violently, forcing them to split again to not be crushed under its body. Switching back to devil form mid-leap, Vergil just hoped they could keep its attention long enough to keep it from hiding again. Surrounded by his summoned swords, he had to dart around to avoid colliding with the rapidly spiraling coils of the creature.

Quick to recover, Dante was already approaching for a second hit, aiming for the neck, but the demonic worm was much faster than it seemed. Having resumed its viper-like posture, it struck several times at Dante in rapid succession, forcing him to resume his devil form to fly out of reach.

“I’ll keep it distracted, do your thing!” Dante called out, unholstering a rocket launcher.

Not minding the slight alteration in his plan, Vergil didn’t need to be told twice. It would be easier this way, with Dante pelting the creature with demonically charged shells, he would be free to, as Dante put it, do his thing. Yamato chimed, thrilled.

Leaping off the ground, Vergil found his target. He could even see its dumb, slack-jawed face with faintly glowing eye sockets, its clawed limbs tracing patterns in the air. If he could break the shield, he could sever those limbs, giving him a point of entry to behead the entire amalgamation of a creature.

Having a plan was good, executing it in a flurry of slashes was even better. As he thought, the individual shields were weak and the hard part was not breaking through, but keeping track of the spot while the worm flailed and hissed at the red blur he could only presume was Dante.

“Could you hurry it up?!”

“Working on it,” Vergil gritted through his teeth, probably too low for Dante to hear.

Even without the shield, the creature's hide was hard as rock and nowhere near as brittle, with the first few cuts being less than effective. Thinking there had to be a way through, Vergil found purchase by sinking his claws into the protruding flesh of the newly mauled demon. Somehow still alive, if one could call it that, it groaned pitifully. Not concerned with that, Vergil examined the surface around it.

“Ah, there we have it,” he couldn’t keep a bit of smug triumph out of his voice.

Softer, fleshy tissue connected the bony plates between each segment, a definite weak spot. This would not be his most elegant kill, but he really didn’t care as he sank Yamato in between the plates. The Chimerapede screamed, an enraged roar like it couldn’t believe its own injury. There was no way to get enough momentum to behead the creature like this, but he had another plan. Several spectral blue swords followed Yamato, all the way around its neck until they appeared almost like a shiny collar.

The moment he pulled Yamato out and freed himself from the writhing skin of the Chimerapede, Vergil sent his summoned swords into a spin, and like a bizarre inverse buzzsaw, they cut through the joint, severing the head.

The Chimerapede crumpled in a cloud of vaporized blood, finally still and more importantly, quiet.

The quiet rang in his ears as he looked over the grisly scene. The ground was completely dug up and quickly turning muddy with blood, several huge craters left from the worm digging and thrashing. 

He saw Dante lying flat on his back, devil form long faded and felt a twinge in the back of his head. Why was he not standing? Had he been hit?

The uncomfortable feeling faded when he heard the low chuckle coming from his brother when he approached.

“What’s so funny?”

The chuckle turned into a groan. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. In fact,” Dante raised a hand from his side, but seemed to lack the strength to keep it there and it fell to the muddy ground with a wet noise, “- I think I might have overdone it.”

“What are you talking about? If you’re hurt, just say so.”

“Not hurt, just…” Dante sounded sleepy and Vergil didn’t like it. “Dunno what to tell you. I’m outta juice? Got nothing...”

“What?!”

Dante didn’t respond, appearing unconscious. How could this happen?

There was no time to consider it, as an awful sound of bony plates scraping together had Vergil whirl around. It was still alive. The Chimerapede had fashioned itself a new head, instead of serrated whirling jaws, it was now a writhing chasm of grasping demon claws.

It towered over them, poised to strike but seemingly wary after the previous encounter, it turned its head from side to side like it was trying to get a good look at them.

This was bad. There was no way for him to fend it off without exposing Dante who still wasn’t moving.

“LEAVE!” Vergil roared with a force that startled himself.

It hissed at him, clearly not impressed, and struck again.

He saw it so clearly; the tension in its coiling body being released, the deadly void surrounded by grasping tendrils. He could have dodged, but he didn’t.

He couldn’t leave Dante behind, not now.

_ Without power you cannot protect anything. _

What had he wanted to protect all this time? His mother? Dante? No. He’d wanted to protect himself. To clad himself in impenetrable armor through which nothing could ever hope to enter or escape. Attain power to become a galaxy unto himself, floating in space, untouchable and completely independent. The power to never need anything or  _ anyone _ ever again.

The power to never be scared.

For he  _ had  _ been scared. Since he was eight years old - he had been terrified for so long the feeling itself had become something numb and unrecognizable.

_ Do you still wish for more fear?  _ His nightmares had asked him. He didn’t wish for more.

So he had cut away anything capable of fear. And V… had been deathly afraid. Of failure, of dying. Yet that weak and terrified half-man had persevered. And ultimately won.

Now, finally, Vergil understood why.

There is a certain power in fear. In understanding what could be lost, what one must do to hold onto it. An overwhelming, decisive certainty.

The inside of the Chimerapede was as vile as he could have expected; corrosive bile stung his skin, forcing his eyes shut. Even so he kept a tight grip on Dante’s wrist, if he lost him here it would be over. Claws were pulling at him and the constant scraping rung in his ears. It was up there with all of Vergil’s worst experiences, but he was grinning. Surrounded by goop and demon flesh, desperately holding on to his unconscious brother, nothing had ever been clearer.

Good thing Dante couldn’t see, he’d think Vergil had lost his mind.

For what had he, if not power? He had eaten the fruit. He had stumbled on, trembling. He had wanted to destroy everything and he had wanted to make things right. He had completed himself. Had he really learned nothing?

He could never have guarded himself against his fear, no matter how much power he obtained. His fear had always been there; an undefined shadow with many faces and no names, something he had always carried within himself. Now he could see it, understand it. Maybe not all of it, but enough to fight it. So he knew.

Neither of them were going to die here.


End file.
